


Remember The Magic...

by Bofur1



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst and Humor, Confusion, Crack, Disneyland, Family Drama, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Lost and Found, Multi, Post-Quest, Reunions, Separations, Spells & Enchantments, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 05:15:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1292749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Bofur1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Due to a careless spell by Gandalf, The Company is transported into the future realm of California. Specifically Disneyland, California. Now, hopelessly lost and confused by everything around them, the Dwarves must evade security, reunite with their families, and return home—before the Park closes and they are trapped inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember The Magic...

**Thorin & Gandalf**

“All of this is _your_ fault, Gandalf!” Thorin railed, his thick hands in rigid fists at his sides.

“I cannot control what spells I cast in my sleep!” Gandalf protested.

“Then control what spells you cast when you’re awake and take us back! _Now!_ ” Thorin bellowed furiously.

“If you want me to, I will,” Gandalf snapped. “But it would risk leaving some of the others behind for good! What would happen if it was just two? Perhaps your heir nephews?”

Thorin’s face lost a bit of color. “...You don’t know where they are?”

Gandalf swept a hand at the surrounding chaos. “Do _you_ see them nearby? In order to be absolutely certain we could bring everyone home, we’ll need to find each and every one of them and bring them back here.”

Thorin pursed his lips as he scanned the strangely dressed Menfolk hurrying down the long cobblestone pathway. Of course he would end up at the Man-Street of this bizarre place. And with Gandalf of all people. Burying his head in his hands, Thorin groaned.

“Great Lord Mah—”

“Mom, look! It’s one of the seven dwarves!”

Thorin’s head lifted with a jerk. Who had spoken?

“But why is he with Merlin? Isn’t that the wrong story?” continued the little boy who had spotted Gandalf and Thorin.

Thorin hurried forward, kneeling before the child. “You’ve seen my Company?” he asked anxiously.

“Thorin, I don’t think—” Gandalf started, but the Durin Heir gave him a harsh silencing look before returning his attention to the lad.

“You’ve seen my Company?” Thorin repeated. “Where were they?”

Instead of answering his question the boy reached over Thorin’s shoulder and tentatively fingered the handle of Orcrist. “What’s that?” he asked in awe.

Thorin jerked back, rising to his feet. “Ah, not something for you to touch,” he answered hastily, seeing the lad’s ama giving him a distrustful look.

“I didn’t know the dwarves had swords,” the boy exclaimed.

Thorin was shocked. “Of course we have swords!” he cried indignantly. “A Dwarf never leaves his home without one!”

Gandalf gripped Thorin’s arm. “Sorry to have bothered you,” Gandalf directed this at the woman. “We’re leaving.” Thus he steered the King under the Mountain away.

“Gandalf!” Thorin shouted, struggling. “Release me! That boy knew something! He said he saw six other—”

“Listen to me,” Gandalf hissed, shoving Thorin against the wall of a side corner. “If I’m remembering correctly, in this timeline the Menfolk believe in fake representations! The Dwarves he was speaking of are weaponless, with hardly any stoutness in their hearts. They wear tawdry silk, have beards unkempt, and dig holes where they aren’t supposed to. You can’t imagine those being any of your Dwarves, can you?”

Thorin was silent. His blue eyes dimmed slightly and he bowed his head.

“Now,” Gandalf said, straightening, “come with me. Don’t talk to anyone, no matter what you hear. And...” Gandalf paused before gripping Thorin’s shoulder much kindlier than before. “...Don’t worry, Thorin. We’ll find them.”

With his nephews’ faces replaying again and again in his mind, Thorin nodded.

 

**Fíli & Glóin**

“What on earth is that?!”

“Where?” Glóin asked, following Fíli’s pointed finger toward a large string of Menfolk. “It’s a line. They’re waiting for something...” Glóin’s eyes lit up. “Perhaps it’s to the exit!”

“Do you think Kíli and Óin are there?” Fíli asked hopefully.

“I do hope so.”

“Then come on!” Fíli urged, pushing Glóin forward. The pair rushed toward the line, ducking beneath thin chains that kept it confined and worming their way into it. Soon they realized, however, that the wait was going to be longer than they expected.

“What say we hurry it up, then?” Glóin suggested, and began pushing past the Menfolk in front of them. Fíli certainly didn’t want to be left alone and therefore followed his cousin’s example. Angry grumbles and protests followed in their wake as they made their way to the front of the line.

Fíli happened to look up at that moment. His eyes grew wide. In utter disbelief he gaped up at the large, dilapidated house that stood creaking before them. “Glóin,” he gasped. “Is this the right place?”

“I’m not sure,” Glóin admitted nervously. “Hey!” Glóin stumbled as he was ushered inside by a sour-faced Woman standing nearby. He looked over his shoulder and saw Fíli trying to push through, trying to join him.

“Glóin! No!”

“Let me go back!” Glóin roared, but it was too late. Before he knew what was happening he was caught up in another swell of people. It was suddenly dark and crowded and Glóin froze where he was, his fingers wrapped around the handle of his axe. An eerie voice was speaking from all around him and yet none of the people he was with were moving their mouths.

 _‘...Of course, there’s always_ my _way...’_

There was a crack of thunder and Glóin’s voice joined others in a matching cry of horror as all eyes went to the hanging skeleton above. Then all of a sudden Glóin was tumbling out onto a moving walkway! The Dwarf let out a very unmanly squeal as he tried to get off, but his movements were futile. The floor kept sweeping him along.

Desperate and terrified, Glóin leapt into an empty cart-like buggy that was passing by and grasped the reins. However, to his disbelief, the reins would not move. They were shaped of iron and were lodged in place. Wildly Glóin banged on the long metal bar and yet it was unyielding. Then he heard a faint voice from in front of him.

“Glóin!”

“Fíli!” Glóin bellowed back as the cart in front of him turned slightly and caught a glimpse of shining golden braids.

“I don’t think this is the exit!” Fíli’s voice was tremulous.

As he heard more unnatural, ownerless words approaching, Glóin pressed his eyes closed and shuddered.

 

**Kíli & Óin**

_‘It’s a whirl of rafters a whirl of gears...it’s a whirl of ropes it’s a whirl of spears...’_

Óin moaned for neither the first nor the last time, covering his ears as the high-pitched child singing echoed all around him. He didn’t know how he’d gotten here on this boat, but he would find whoever was singing and offer them his hearing trumpet so they could actually know how awful they were.

Suddenly someone tapped Óin’s shoulder. Jumping, the old healer turned. His eyes went wide and he tried to shout over the singing.

“Kíli! What are you doing here?!”

“I could ask you the same!” Kíli shouted back.

“What do you remember?” Óin yelled.

“I remember eating breakfast, then falling in blackness and waking up here!”

Óin nodded. “So do I! What is this place, do you think?”

Kíli knit his brows. “Let me find out!” So saying, he rose to his feet, wobbling for a moment, and then leapt onto the shore. He yelped as he stepped on a moving doll, knocking it flat with a sickening crunch. Kíli turned carefully and began tiptoeing delicately over the singing figurines, ignoring the furious shouts from passerby in the boats.

Suddenly a booming voice came from all around him. _‘Sir, return to your boat immediately!’_ Kíli jerked, startled by the voice, and staggered over the jutting lip of a faux rock formation. Kíli wheeled his arms, trying to regain his balance. It was to no avail and, with a wild scream, he fell. A severe clang sounded as the prince’s skull struck the iron track that guided the boats and then he splashed into the water.

“ _Kíli!_ ” Óin hollered. Moving faster than he had in months, Óin stood and dove into the murky depths. Propelling with his feet, Óin swam deeper, dodging small objects that swirled through the water. He bumped a larger obstacle and knew he’d found Kíli. Maneuvering his arms beneath the other Dwarf’s body Óin swam for the surface and was immediately struck by a passing boat. Pain reverberated through his body as he flailed out of the water and flopped like a fish with Kíli onto the edge of the dry land.

Groaning, Óin sat up and immediately turned his attention from his own gashes and bruises to Kíli’s.

“No...”

Kíli’s face was pale, except for the deep coloring of the bruised lesion in his forehead. Desperately Óin ripped off a piece of his coat and pressed it to the wound, praying, praying...

“That’s...really c-cold...” came a faint murmur. Óin released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and yanked the whimpering prince into a tight embrace.

“Don’t you dare do that again!” Óin gasped. “If I had to tell your uncle...he’d have a seizure. Don’t ever, _ever_ do that again!”

“Sirs, you need to come with me,” another stern voice declared. Óin and Kíli looked up and simultaneously swallowed hard. A large, official-looking Man was standing above them with a dark scowl on his face.

“You...you’re very big,” Kíli ventured weakly before burying his face in Óin’s shoulder.

 

**Dori & Bifur**

“Ori! Nori!” Dori shouted frantically. Where in Arda was he? Where were his brothers? His shock became relief when he saw another Dwarf among the many Menfolk.

“Bifur!” Dori called. The eldest Broadbeam whirled in his own cart, dark eyes wide in his sickly pale face. Dori leaned forward past the restricting bar across his lap, stretching out a pacifying hand. He knew what _that_ look meant. Bifur was terrified and confused by all these new things—flashing and whirling lights, jerkily moving creatures, repetitive zinging noises.

“No, no, Bifur, it’s alright! Deep breaths, deep breaths!” Dori didn’t know what the reaction would be from all these people if Bifur had an incident, but he was sure it wouldn’t be pleasant and understanding.

“Muradur míz!” _Ghostly light!_ Bifur howled, hugging himself protectively as he ducked, trembling, behind a curtain of black and white hair. “Kuŋ rasp mê arùyad?!” _Where are my kin?!_

Dori searched his very rusty knowledge of Khuzdûl. He’d heard Gandalf speak it sometimes...At last he came up with the right word.

“Atkât, Bifur! Be still!” Dori cried, struggling to wriggle out from under his bar. He banged it viciously, trying to get it to release.

“Ikhuzh!” _Stop!_ wailed Bifur, shrinking away from a bright flash straight in his eyes. A commanding voice reverberated in his ears.

_‘...That’s it, Space Rangers! Blast him with everything you’ve got!’_

Bifur buried his head in his hands, sobbing wretchedly, as Dori tried to console him from across the way. “I’m here, I’m here! Calm down!”

Eventually Bifur’s sobs became words. “Bepap aklat...khi bashak mên...” _Endless noise...it torments me_...

Dori supported him as they stumbled outside. He knew he had to find something to calm him down. They sped across a street filled with Men, oblivious as a Dwarf and a Wizard spotted them and tried to get their attention.

Dori found a cart and wondered if Bifur liked fruit as much as he liked vegetables. Deciding to chance it, he threw some gold on the counter and snatched up a cup of golden fruit sludge that sat there, shoving it in Bifur’s hands.

Bifur snuffled and took a tentative lick at it. Much to Dori’s relief, he seemed temporarily comforted by it. In order for him to fully come out of it, though, Dori knew they would have to find Bofur and Bombur. Soon.

 

**Nori & Bofur**

“How d’ye do? Fine, how’re ye? Pretty good, sure as ye’re born,” Bofur sang boisterously along with the animals around him. “This song was meant fer us, Nor’!” He smiled brightly at Nori, who gave him a nod of agreement. “Hey...” Bofur narrowed his eyes at him teasingly. “What’re ye doin’ now?”

Nori shrugged. “Not much...” Still, he gave Bofur a rueful half-smile as he twirled a long, silky sash-like object with creative shapes pinned onto it.

“What’s that?” Bofur asked curiously.

“I heard its owner call it a lanyard.”

“Llaaaannnyarddd,” Bofur let the word roll over his tongue. He raised his eyebrows. “Ye’d better put it back.”

“Aw, c’mon, might as well make the best of our—vultures.”

“Vultures?” Bofur repeated in surprise. Nori pointed above their heads, and Bofur cocked his head suddenly. After a moment, he shifted uneasily. “Are they—?”

“Talkin’ about our deaths?” Nori finished his sentence. “Yeh. Yeh, I think they are.”

“Nori!” Bofur yelped. “Look—it’s a waterfall!”

Nori gulped. He took a breath and then released it in a mad shriek as they plunged down the fall at high speed. A giant wave plunged down on him, plastering his carefully crafted hair against his head. Yelling curses at the air, Nori wiped the water from his eyes and looked for Bofur. However, his friend had disappeared.

“Bofur?” Nori peered over his shoulder and gasped. “Bofur, come back!” Bofur had leapt from the boat in pursuit of his misplaced hat that had flown off during the drop.

“Not without m’ hat!” the drenched Bofur hollered back, standing on tiptoe to reach said headwear that had hooked on a large thorn on a fake vine. “Bifur gave me this hat an’ I’m not leavin’ without it!”

“Hurry up!” Nori called anxiously.

Bofur’s fingers hooked the brim of the floppy object and it was soon back where it belonged on Bofur’s head and its owner was back with Nori, leering childishly as he launched into the chorus of ‘Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah’. Nori growled as his dripping eyebrow braids hung in his eyes and his scalp turned cold as the breeze picked up. To sum up the worst, Nori had already lost his stolen lanyard to the waterfall.

 

**Ori & Balin**

“Mr. Balin...what is this place?”

“I’m not sure, Ori,” Balin answered softly. “But we’ll find your brothers and maybe they can tell us what’s going on.”

“I hope so,” Ori shivered, leaning closer into Balin’s comforting embrace. The two tiptoed quietly through the silent gray halls filled with hanging ropes and sacks of sand.

At long last they heard a male voice from up ahead. Ori froze, paralyzed, but Balin patted the young one’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, lad. I’ll just see who’s there and then ask them how to get out of here. Alright? You wait for me.”

Hesitantly Ori nodded and leaned against the wall. Balin smiled encouragingly and walked forward with confidence. Then he found himself on his hands and knees, having tripped painfully over a thick wire running across the floor.

Grimacing a bit, Balin rose again and brushed himself off, then entering the room from which the voice was coming.

“Excuse me,” he called, sticking his head inside.

“Yeah, who is it?”

“Ah...” Balin decided it would be safer to keep to the truth. “Balin, at your service.”

The voice laughed and the door opened so he could enter. “Well, I’m grateful but I don’t really need it, Mr. Balin. I’m just finished changing and now I’m on my way out for the parade.”

“If you don’t need my service,” Balin ventured, “perhaps you could be at mine—?” He halted, gawking. A wild creature was staring expectantly back at him. It had the body of a Man, but the head of...a sneering mouse.

Backing away, Balin drew his sword.

“Hey, hey,” the beast said, reaching a hand toward him. “There’s no need for that!”

“Stay back,” Balin growled through clenched teeth. “Or you’ll force me to use violence.”

“No, see?” the creature began pushing near the base of its head, and then the skin began stretching upward. Balin watched, transfixed with horror. “Just a mask,” came the conclusion as a Man’s head emerged from beneath the mouse’s.

Balin swallowed, his hand wavering. “I...I was wondering where I am,” he said warily as he lowered his sword slightly.

“You’re backstage,” the Man responded, seeming surprised.

“Backstage?”

“Yeah...you know, where we get into our costumes?” The Man shrugged his shoulders before tugging the mask on again. “Now, really, I have to go.” He inched past the point of Balin’s blade, adding, “You should be careful, that looks sharp.”

“It is,” Balin growled suspiciously back. He gave the Man a sidelong gaze until he couldn’t see him anymore.

“Mr. Balin!” cried a petrified voice a moment later.

“What are you doing back here, kid?”

With a deep sigh Balin turned, ready for a long and very confusing conversation.

 

**Dwalin & Bilbo**

The boat creaked as it scooted off the edge of the waterfall and into the water with a splash. Bilbo yelped and clung to Dwalin’s coat, leaving indents where his fingernails bit the fabric.

“Where are we, Mister Dwalin?” he cried tremulously.

Dwalin hushed him sharply. “I hear somethin’ up ahead.”

Many voices were singing a drinking song from all around, but Dwalin didn’t see anyone to do the singing—at least, no one alive. Dwalin grimaced with a disgusted, “Eww,” as rotting skeletons gaped at their passing boat.

Dwalin looked ahead and all at once his silver-gray eyes grew round. He knew that shine...Sure enough as they rounded the corner with a piano that miraculously played itself, mounds and mounds of gold came into view. Mouth agape, Dwalin reached out. His fingers brushed one of the golden coins and a chill juddered down his spine.

Warning bells clanged in the back of his mind, ringing only one word: _Thrór, Thrór, Thrór, Thrór..._ Dwalin mentally muted the bells and shook Bilbo’s hand off his arm as he leaned.

“Hey!” a voice hissed. “You’re not supposed to lean out of the boat!”

Dwalin snapped his head around to glare mightily at the offending passenger, a woman with a strange hat on her head. “And how is it your concern?” the giant Dwarf growled menacingly.

“That’s what the ride-workers told us!” the woman replied, miffed.

“Do I look like I care?”

Bilbo gulped. Dwalin was sounding more and more like Thorin with each passing moment. “Dwalin—” the Hobbit began.

“Be silent, Burglar! I have no need for this woman’s folly!” Dwalin snarled. He straightened to his full height and was about to give the offender some choice words about insulting a hero of Erabor, but a curtain of fog blasted him in the face before he could. Coughing, he spat something into the water and heard the woman squeak before moving closer to her husband.

The next thing Dwalin knew, Bilbo was screaming in his ear. “A battle!” he wailed and Dwalin instantly snapped out of his temporary gold-sickness. He made to stand up so he could draw his axes, but the woman had the absolute nerve to stop him again.

“We’re not supposed to stand up, either!”

“Perhaps you’re not,” Dwalin barked, “but I am a warrior! The wild is no place for _gentle folk_ who can neither fight nor fend for themselves!”

The woman bristled and lifted her nose at him. “Your son doesn’t look so tough.”

Bilbo gasped in alarm. “N-No...”

Dwalin’s face was thunderous. “You dare insult the Hobbit! You are a self-righteous and ignorant sop worthy only of washing his feet!”

The woman began cursing ferociously, using words Dwalin had never even heard of. This was why he was able to maintain his expression of prideful rage. Bilbo buried his head in his hands and the woman’s husband followed suit. This boat ride was going to feel like an entire Age of Middle Earth if this conversation continued...

 

**Bombur | All**

Bombur was enjoying himself immensely. There were so many things to see, do, and eat! He’d been a bit confused at first, without familiar surroundings and without familiar faces, but when he looked up and saw long sticks of cinnamon sitting temptingly in front of his nose, he forgot his discomfort.

What surprised Bombur as he walked by stall after stall and snatched up snack after snack was that no one seemed to want pay for it. He would only get a nod in response to his snatching and sometimes a question that he didn’t know the answer to.

“What character are you?”

Bombur mumbled around fluffy, sticky, melting pink and blue goodness that he was no character, he was his usual self.

“We’ve never come before. Can you tell us how to get to Tomorrow Land?”

Bombur pointed in a random direction with one hand while using the other to shove a brownie in his mouth.

“Is that a fat suit?”

Bombur was so insulted that he didn’t even honor the question with a response, instead stalking off and crunching down on a candy stick.

It was when he approached a cart with mouthwatering yellow sludge in cups that he found two familiar faces. Dori stood rubbing the shoulder of Bifur, who was licking one of those sludge cups and rubbing at tear tracks on his face.

“Bifur!” he called in concern after swallowing his bite of sweet potato fry. His cousin jerked around, spilling the cup of sludge all over Dori’s tunic. He ignored the eldest Ri brother’s squeal of disgust and ran, tackling Bombur in a huge, sticky, food-filled, blubbering hug. Bombur tentatively patted Bifur’s back as his cousin wailed out some kind of explanation that he didn’t understand.

“We crossed this Man-street because we had to get away from some evil emperor who was intent on torturing Bifur,” Dori sighed, rubbing mournfully at the front of his tunic. “I knew he needed something to calm him down and saw this fruit...sludge...thing over here.”

“It looks great,” Bombur said, eyeing it greedily as he detached himself from Bifur. As he and Dori talked, Bifur squinted at something in the distance and then let out a cry of surprise. Bombur turned and gasped in delight, waving at Dwalin and Bilbo. His arm dropped, however, when he saw the furious look on Dwalin’s face and the timid look on the Hobbit’s.

“Where have you been?!” Dwalin demanded as soon as he reached hearing distance.

Bombur shrugged. “I’ve been trying to find you.” Bifur rolled his eyes, but no one else noticed.

“You should have been doing something productive with your time!” Dwalin barked. “I was in a battle with fantastical iron slingshots called ‘cannons’!”

“...And Glóin, I swear I am _never_ going in there again, no matter what that woman said!” came a prince’s familiar voice. Dwalin whirled and ran to Fíli, checking him over and asking if he was alright. “Fine,” was Fíli’s tense response, “for one who’s just been haunted by ghostly wights and witches! You should have seen the one at the end...” Fíli lifted his hands mystically, putting on an eerie smile and making his eyes bulge. “Come back...come back...” He shook his head hard, whipping the braids of his moustache back and forth. “Never again!”

Glóin gulped. “I think the moving walkway was the worst! And the buggies moving without horses!”

The other Dwarves stared at him in disbelief. “Is that even possible?!”

“Yes, it is! But when we saw Dwalin and Bilbo, we followed them to you,” Glóin replied, slapping Dwalin’s shoulder in relief.

“Oi! Where’ve ye buggers been—Bifur! Bombur! How d’ye do?” Keeping a hand on his hat, Bofur dashed forward and leapt into the arms of his kin. “I’ve been worried about ye!”

“Hey, Dori,” Nori hummed, sauntering up with such calm that Dori belted him upside the head before hugging him. “Why does your tunic smell like fruit?” Nori asked after a moment. “I thought you were more careful with food.”

“It was Bifur,” Dori sniffed. “Why are _you_ soaking wet?”

Nori smiled ruefully. “Fell down a waterfall.” He and Bofur rolled his eyes as Dori and Bifur immediately began fussing and making sure they weren’t missing any body parts.

“Yeh, there were these creepy vultures that talked!” Bofur cried, leaping back again to demonstrate what the vultures looked like. “They were sayin’ that there was no way out an’ that we were goin’ t’ our doom and cackling maniacally: mwahahahaha!” Bifur frowned at him and he shrugged. “Hey, that’s just what they were doin’.”

Dori looked his brother over with a critical eye. “And who have you plundered today?”

“Oh, just one person,” Nori sighed sadly, “and I lost the swag in the splash.”

“Serves you right for worrying me so much!” Dori declared. Nori glared and took the treat Bombur handed to him, taking a swipe at it with a finger and calmly bearing Dori’s following tirade.

Just then a faraway voice bellowed, “Fíli!”

Fíli looked up over the rim of his cup as Thorin ran toward them with reckless abandon, shoving people out of the way and receiving furious shouts for it. Thorin ignored them, instead seizing Fíli by the shoulders and demanding, “Are you alright? Are you hurt? Where have you been? Have you been by yourself this whole time? How did you happen here?”

Fíli took another lick at the frozen fruit delight and then held out his half-empty cup, offering, “Want some...” He glanced at the sign on the cart. “ _Dole Whip_ , Uncle?”

“No, I don’t!” Thorin snapped.

As the King seethed, Bombur insisted, “Mr. Oakenshield, I really think a Dole Whip would do you good.” He pushed a cup into his hand and Thorin growled and chomped down on it.

“Now,” he said as he swallowed, “where’s your brother, Fíli?”

“I don’t know,” Fíli admitted worriedly, throwing the cup at the base of a tree. “I haven’t seen him.”

Gandalf approached and all the Dwarves turned on him, yelling that it was his fault they were there, but he waited it out and then began counting heads. “...All we’re missing are Balin, Ori, Óin, and Kíli,” he announced. “We won’t separate again; we’ll stay in a group and find them.”

Bombur snagged one last Dole Whip for him and his kin to take turns licking while they tromped along. Thorin listened with horror to each of the other Dwarves’ stories, and even Gandalf flinched a few times when hearing about the talking vultures and the woman who decapitated her husbands.

As they returned to the Man-street, Gandalf suggested they follow the long line of buggies that was filing down the path. They did so, startling when everyone around them suddenly began screaming in joy. Music boomed in the air and the crowd roared and clapped and waved. Tentatively the Company waved back, wondering what all the fuss was about.

“Have they finally realized who we are?” Dwalin asked. This notion made them bolder, bold enough to fan out a bit. When the people on the over-decorated buggies began singing, the Dwarves tried to follow along. Bofur and Nori, the natural dancers of the group, were the first to try dancing as well as singing, which of course caught the others up in it as well. Even Thorin was enjoying himself, glowering only when he saw a Woman twirling rather close to Fíli, and even that was short-lived.

“Hey! It’s Balin and Ori!” Bilbo cried over the din, pointing toward their friends. Dwalin, Dori, and Nori ran to pull them back into the group.

“We met a mystical creature!” Ori shouted excitedly. “Half-man, half-mouse, and he guided us here!”

“Is that possible, Gandalf?!” Dori asked in shock.

Gandalf threw up his hands. “Apparently this is a land of imagination.”

“At least we’re all reunited,” Balin sighed in relief, coming off his toes from a head-bump with his brother.

“Not yet!” Glóin warned. “We still have to find Kíli and Óin!”

At long last, as they rounded a different curve than the buggies, the Company spotted an archway where tall, officially-dressed Menfolk were standing around two shorter figures.

“Óin!” Glóin shouted, alerting his brother to his presence. Fíli and Thorin simply took off, not bothering to announce their coming. The security guards moved aside in surprise as the three Dwarves tackled their kin.

“Kíli, you’re hurt!” Thorin gasped, running a finger over the white bandage that sat under his younger nephew’s limp, stringy bangs.

“He had a little water incident,” Óin explained wearily. “Fell out of a boat.”

“Here, this’ll cheer you up, Kee,” Fíli suggested, stealing the Dole Whip from the Broadbeams and handing it to his brother.

Kíli sighed and took it. “Thanks, Fee.”

“Sir, is this your son?” one of the Menfolk demanded of Thorin.

Thorin bristled at the man’s tone and didn’t even mind the shock he got out of his subjects when he barked, “Yes! What did you do to him?!”

“He and his grandfather aren’t allowed to come here again, as they disrupted one of the rides,” was the stiff reply. “We had to escort them out.”

“Hang on a moment, I’m not his—” Óin tried to speak, but Thorin held up a hand to silence him and then stepped up the guard.

“Listen to me, sir...” His words were too quiet to be heard by anyone else, but the guard lurched backward suddenly with a pale face and pointed to the exit.

“If you would please go.”

Thorin smiled thinly. “Yes, I think we will.” Majestically he strode away, his exit not as dramatic as he wanted when he ran into the turnstile. He poked it, staring at it in confusion as it didn’t budge.

“I think you turn it, Uncle,” Kíli called after him. The Men startled.

“‘Uncle’?!” echoed one of them. “He said you were his son!”

The Dwarves burst into action, leaping over the turnstiles with vigor and dashing away into the night. Bombur tripped, of course, and Bifur and Bofur had to go back for him.

“G’night!” Bofur called, tipping his hat to the gawking Men. Then they too made a swift retreat.

* * *

 

“Finally home,” Balin sighed as he and the rest stumbled into the hall leading to their rooms.

“I’m not going to make it to the room. My feet hurt too much,” Nori groaned, flopping down where he was. Dori started to protest, but Ori settled down also and he reluctantly followed suit.

The rest of the Dwarves took the cue, curling up with their families on the floor. They’d had a long, exhausting day, except Bombur, whose only aftereffect of his time was excessive belching.

When even he had quieted and all of them began drifting to sleep, Bofur suddenly whispered, “Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-day...”

“Shut up, Bofur,” Nori hissed, but Óin spoke up.

“I learned a song too!”

The Company decided that they actually did have enough energy to leap up, scurry to their separate quarters and make to slam the door behind them. Fíli got the last word, however, poking his head out of his room and calling in a spine-chilling voice down the hall:

“Come back...come back...”

Everyone shuddered.

 


End file.
